The Beautiful and the Damned

by Jessica Verday

  The waitress frowned, not sure if he was as interested in her as she wanted him to be. “You mean Cyn? She’s the only one that works the night shift. Except for Dougie Ray on her nights off. But he’s not little, and he’s definitely not cute.”

  “Cyn. That must be it. Cyn . . . ?”

  “I don’t know what her last name is.” The waitress put one hand on her hip.

  “She forgot her coat when she left, and I have it,” he explained. “I wanted to return it to her.” He smiled at the waitress, and it worked like a charm.

  “Well isn’t that just so sweet of you, officer.”

  “Call me Declan.”

  “Declan . . . I . . .” She fumbled with her notepad. “Cyn will be in tonight. She works from ten to seven.”

  “Great. I’ll stop back in then. Now, would you get me a piece of pumpkin pie? With whipped cream, if you have any.”

  “Absolutely.” She beamed at him again and then made her way over to Avian. When he only ordered a cup of coffee, she left him with a considerably less than cheerful attitude and returned seconds later with a steaming cup.

  Avian sipped slowly, taking note of how many times the cop looked over at him. Three total, in the fifteen minutes he was there. The cop paid a couple more compliments to the waitress and then took the number she slipped him as he stood to leave. But he barely glanced at it before stuffing it into his back pocket.

  When the cop went to pay, Avian followed him again. He brushed by him, and Avian caught one of the cop’s memories. It was a flash of the girl, Cyn—and the mental image was tinged around the edges with red.

  Interesting. . . . What’s your connection to an Echo?

  The cop was still in the parking lot as Avian exited, and Avian didn’t miss the fact that he was checking out his license plate. He started his bike up.

  “Looks like a classic,” the cop said over the roar of the engine.

  “It is.”

  “Are you a collector?”

  Avian thought about the thirty motorcycles in the garage of his Massachusetts house. That probably qualified him as a collector. “You could say that.”

  The cop smiled. But his eyes were hard. “My brother had a motorcycle too. Nothing as nice as yours, just a ninety-nine Honda Valkyrie. But it was his pride and joy.”

  Avian took note of the word “was.”

  The cop turned and got into his car. A rental. “Ride safe.”

  Avian gave the cop plenty of time to pull out, then tailed him for a while. He kept close to the diner, driving around the block several times like he was looking for something. Two girls came walking down the street, and the cop flashed his badge again, asking if either one of them knew Cyn. Avian didn’t miss the flash of anger on his face when the answer was no.

  When the cop finally pulled away, he drove straight to a motel and went inside room 223.

  The car’s a rental, and the hotel room means he isn’t local. And Avian would bet every last motorcycle he owned that wherever the cop came from was the same place Cyn came from too.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Father Montgomery didn’t ask any questions as he shepherded Cyn inside the rectory, other than if she needed immediate medical attention. When she told him no, he handed her a fluffy white towel, pointed her in the direction of the bathroom, and gave her privacy while she cleaned up.

  Cyn stared at the wall of water, watching dirt run down in tiny brown rivers and circle round the drain as her fingers grew wrinkly in the shower. What if he can’t help me?

  She wanted to tell Father Montgomery about the cuts on her arm, what she’d done to the baby deer, and how she’d found herself on the edge of the cliff. But she didn’t want to talk about Hunter. And he was a pretty big part of it all.

  “Whenever you’re ready I have some nice hot coffee brewing,” Father Montgomery called politely when he heard the water shut off. “And you’ll find a set of clothes on the bed in the spare room.”

  Cyn dried off and found the oversize sweats and faded black and white flannel shirt in the room next door. The pants were too big—she had to double knot the drawstring in order to keep them from falling down—but she didn’t mind.

  Her wig was a complete disaster. There wasn’t much she could do for it, though, so she just finger combed it and then pulled it on. Father Montgomery was waiting for her down in the kitchen. He had an open Bible beside him on the table but was looking out the window at a squirrel climbing a tree.

  “I love watching squirrels,” he said. “I know people think they’re pests, but God has a plan for them. The nuts they bury will grow into trees, providing life and oxygen and nourishment for our planet. What can seem bothersome to one might just have a different purpose for another.”

  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that he was alluding to her troubles.

  “Father Montgomery, I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate this,” Cyn said slowly. “I know this must seem incredibly strange, me just showing up out of the blue like this, covered in mud. But I can’t ask you to—”

  “Forgive my interruption, but you aren’t asking me to do anything that God has not asked of me. We were put on this earth to help our fellow man, and that includes times of trouble and need. I don’t want to presume, but based on our previous conversations, you haven’t mentioned any family. . . .”

  “I’m not close to them.”

  “Then, please, let the church help you. Whether you need a place to stay, some clothes to wear, or just a warm meal and a shoulder to lean on. And if it’s something more than that, you can tell me. I made a solemn vow before God and man not to reveal anything that is shared in confidence.”

  For a moment, Cyn could almost see everything play out in front of her. To finally belong somewhere as she confessed her secrets and was forgiven for her sins. But then reality came crashing in.

  Although God might be forgiving, the State of New York wouldn’t be. Especially when it came to murder.

  “I don’t think . . .” She shook her head but couldn’t finish.

  “You can trust me,” he said, leaning forward earnestly. “Nothing is unforgivable as long as your heart is in the right place.”

  She highly doubted that.

  The defeated look in Cyn’s eyes tugged at Father Montgomery’s heart. She was so young, and so full of hurt.

  “You know,” he said, “once I found myself in a difficult situation. I was introduced to someone who, like you, didn’t have a support system in his life.” Thoughts of the early years with Avian made him smile. “Several people in my congregation questioned whether it was right of me to accept this young man into my care. He was troubled, and they thought he might lead me astray.”

  Cyn ran her pinky around the edge of her coffee cup as she listened.

  “He had an unconventional background, and very little interaction with people who didn’t want to take advantage of him, so this made him highly suspicious of me. But over time we came to trust each other and rely on each other, and to this day he is one of the best souls that I have ever known.”

  “He’s not six feet tall and angry looking, is he?” she said sarcastically, thinking about the night she’d first come to try and speak to Father Montgomery and had been rudely rebuffed.

  Father Montgomery chuckled. “Avian can be a bit protective, but he has a good heart.”

  Cyn glanced out the window. Father Montgomery couldn’t help her. He was talking about raising wayward boys with attitude problems. Not murder and suicide attempts and cruelty to animals.

  Cyn felt her stomach pitch again at the thought of that poor deer. I have to get out of here.

  “Thank you for your kindness, Father Montgomery.” She stood, leaving her full mug on the table. “I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know.”

  He saw that she wasn’t going to say anything more, so he reached for her hand and patted it. “I understand. And my door is open to you day or night when you are ready.” He pulled a rosary
out of his pocket and passed it to her. “Just as a reminder that you are never alone.”

  Cyn smiled sadly at him but took his gift. “That’s the problem in a nutshell, Father. I’m not alone.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Clutching the rosary Father Montgomery had given her, Cyn chain smoked Lenny’s pack of cigarettes the entire way back to her apartment. Exhaustion was setting in, and she couldn’t stop thinking about that baby deer.

  Stumbling on the front step, she felt dizzy again and knew she needed to eat something. So she chased a couple of saltines with some flat ginger ale, then curled up in her sleeping bag. Sleep would make everything better. As long as she didn’t dream she would wake up with a clear head, and then she could figure out what to do.

  But sleep didn’t make everything better, and when Cyn woke again her head was pounding. The room went black, and she had to count to ten before her vision cleared. Mental note: You need to eat more than just crackers.

  She looked at the clock to try and calculate how long it had been since she’d last had a solid meal and saw it was two o’clock in the morning. Her shift was supposed to start four hours ago. Marv probably thought she was a no-show.

  “Shit, shit, shit!” Cyn scrambled out of bed, and something clattered to the floor. She must have fallen asleep with the rosary Father Montgomery had given her.

  But when Cyn looked down, she saw that it wasn’t a holy relic lying on the floor.

  It was a knife.

  The room started to tilt again, and Cyn bent over and put her head between her knees. Where did that come from? “I must have picked it up from the diner,” she said out loud. Willing her words to become true.

  But there was no way it was from the diner. The knife had an elaborately decorated handle and a wide, flat blade. It looked like a ceremonial dagger.

  Visions of realtors suddenly deciding to stop by the building and stumbling upon the knife filled her mind. That’s the last thing I need. So she picked up the knife and carried it into the bathroom. Then she lifted the lid on the back of the toilet tank and dropped it into the water. It was the only place she could think of to stash it.

  Hurrying over to her suitcase, Cyn pulled out a black bobbed wig and then put on her diner uniform. The cuts on her arms were still clearly visible. A long-sleeved T-shirt layered beneath the uniform wasn’t her greatest look, but it covered everything up so she wouldn’t have to explain why her arms looked the way they did.

  Cyn walked as fast as she could to the diner, but Marv blew a gasket when she got there. “Finally decided to join us, huh?” His apron was messier than usual, and he was juggling plates. “I don’t know why you even bothered to show up after pulling this shit.”

  “I’m sorry, Marv. I got sick.” She didn’t beat around the bush or give him a smart-ass answer.

  “Yeah, well, don’t be getting any of my customers sick. That’s the last thing I need. Now go get your apron on and get out to table seven.”

  Cyn followed his direction and moved to take care of the table. But her reaction time was off, and she kept messing up. More than one irritated customer had their burger cooked wrong, or a drink not filled fast enough.

  “You really are dragging ass tonight,” Marv said when things finally slowed down. “You’re not gonna keel over on me, are you? Makes for bad publicity.”

  Cyn pulled two empty chairs over to the counter and put her feet up. Let him say something about me sitting down on the job now. I’ll tell him where he can stick it.

  “Must be a flu thing going around. I’ll be okay.”

  Marv shook his head, but a worried look crept across his face. He was just about to say something else when the bell above the door chimed. He glanced over. “It’s that cop again. He’s been looking for you. Think you can handle one more customer?”

  Cyn got to her feet. “Sure.” She knew she should be worried: The last time he was in here, she bailed on him. But she didn’t feel anything.

  Maybe this was acceptance. Maybe she was finally coming to terms with what she did.

  “Black hair really doesn’t suit you,” Declan said with a self-assured smile when she stopped at his table. “I preferred the brown.”

  “Do you know what you’d like to order?” she replied in a monotone.

  “Why do you change your hair color so often? You’re not trying to hide something, are you?”

  “What about something to drink?” Cyn suggested. “Coffee? Tea? Soda . . . ?”

  “That all depends on what I’m going to eat. Dessert requires coffee, but something warm, like a bowl of clam chowder, means I’ll want something cold to wash it down with.”

  He grinned at her, but she wasn’t in the mood to play games. “I’ll just give you another minute then.” She turned to walk away.

  “I have your coat,” he called, and she stopped. “If your name is Cyn Hargrave. That’s the name on the paycheck stub I found in the pocket.”

  Cyn briefly contemplated telling him to just keep it, but it was the only coat she had, and buying another one, even at thrift-store prices, would put a serious dent in her meager savings. “Yeah, that’s me.”

  “You left it here the other night. I saw it and didn’t want anyone else to take it.”

  “Thanks.” She managed a tight smile.

  He glanced down at the menu and then held it out to her. “I think I’ll have a Reuben. With a Coke.”

  She wrote down his order and reached for the menu. His fingers brushed hers, and she tried to pull back, but he saw her gold ring. “That’s pretty. Reminds me of a ring I helped my brother pick out for a girl he was crazy about. His name was Hunter Vasquez.”

  As soon as the cop said Hunter’s name, Cyn dropped the menu and flat-out ran to the kitchen. Hunter’s brother. He’s Hunter’s brother, and this is why you’ve been so freaked out that he’s here. It’s only a matter of time until he arrests you.

  Hunter had mentioned an older brother once, but she’d never met him and hadn’t given him any thought beyond that.

  Lenny was hosing down the sink when she burst through the door, and he barely stopped her from running into him. “Everything okay? Marv said you weren’t feeling good.”

  Cyn seized on the excuse. “Yeah. That’s right. I thought I was going to barf on my customer out there.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I need a big favor, Lenny. He’s got my jacket. Do you think you could go get it for me?”

  Lenny’s face grew angry. “Creeper took your coat? That’s messed up. Want me to take care of him?”

  “No, no. That’s okay,” Cyn said hastily. “He’s a cop.”

  Lenny nodded and went out to the floor. While she was waiting, Marv came back to the kitchen. “You okay, Cynsation?”

  Cyn gave him a weak thumbs-up, but she must have looked pretty bad, because he brought her a bowl of clam chowder and insisted she eat it. She told him what was going on, and he glanced out the window, giving her a play by play.

  “Lenny’s talking to him now. Looks like the cop is getting up. Bastard better not be skipping out on the check.” He shook his fist at the wall.

  Cyn’s spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl, and she glanced down, surprised that she’d managed to eat it all.

  Marv returned to hover over her shoulder. “You want more?” he asked.

  “I’m good. Thanks, Marv.”

  His ears turned red, and he busied himself with something at the sink. “Don’t mention it.”

  The door swung open behind them, and then Lenny came through, holding Cyn’s coat triumphantly.

  If Cyn was the hugging type, she would have given him one right then. Instead, she gave him a two-finger salute. “I owe you another pack of cigarettes, Lenny.”

  “No prob— Wait, what do you mean, another pack?”

  Cyn pulled on her jacket, but she didn’t answer him. She had to think. Had to figure out what she was going to do now. “I’m going to cut out early,” she said to Marv. “I think I need some more sleep.”


  He didn’t look happy about it, but he agreed. “I expect you on time tomorrow night.”

  Cyn made a noncommittal noise as she headed for the door. She didn’t know if she would be back tomorrow night; it was only a matter of time until the cop arrested her.

  “I’m not gonna forget about that ‘another pack’ comment,” Lenny yelled behind her. He pointed to his head. “It’s a steel trap up here.”

  Cyn found herself smiling as she stepped out into the cool morning air. I might actually miss those guys.

  “Steel trap!” she could still hear him saying. “A goddamn steel trap!”

  It wasn’t until she was three blocks from her place that she saw the glow of a cigarette in the darkness behind her and realized she was being followed.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  As soon as Avian came back from following the cop and stepped into Father Montgomery’s house he knew something was wrong.

  The lights were off, and the house had a cold feeling to it. Empty and barren. Earlier, the priest had told Avian his plans to go make his rounds to visit the sick, which would explain why he wasn’t home. But it didn’t explain the creeping stillness that hung over the house.

  Avian was well acquainted with that feeling. It was death.

  Drawing his sword, Avian stalked through the living room to the kitchen. “Father Montgomery? Are you here?”

  Father Montgomery’s coat was hanging neatly on the rack by the fireplace, slippers waiting next to the chair he always fell asleep reading in. But Avian didn’t smell the lingering odor of the evening coffee Father Montgomery liked to indulge in. The kitchen was just as vacant as the living room.

  He moved toward the priest’s bedroom next.

  The door swung open, revealing a small room with a neatly made bed, an armchair, and a reading table. The sheets were still tucked up under the pillow, not turned down like Father Montgomery always preferred to do right before he went to sleep. He clearly hadn’t been there since morning.